


almost human after all

by perculious



Category: Kagerou Project
Genre: Depression, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 17:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1991631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perculious/pseuds/perculious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not a crush. It’s just his disgusting pervert mind ruining everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	almost human after all

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the LN timeline, just after the fourth novel, so if you haven't read the novels it might be a little confusing (and spoilery). Also there's a significant amount of KidoMomo, I just didn't want to tag it since it's not the main pairing. So much thanks to tumblr user revtomdildomolar for helping out and encouraging me. My tumblr is quadlutz, and if you're into konoshin I would probably be super thrilled to chat with you about it!

“We’ll have to go back to our mom’s house soon,” Momo says, piling more food onto her plate. Shintaro can’t blame her, Kido’s cooking is amazing. “She can’t keep thinking I’m on a film set. It’s okay for Shintaro because he never leaves his room anyway—”

“And just where do you think I am now?” Shintaro says, indignant. Honestly, after having suffered as much as he’s suffered in the past week, being dragged around outside in the sun and forced to spend time with half a dozen strangers, to not acknowledge his struggles is inhumane.

“I’m just saying,” Momo says. “No one notices if you don’t show up for a few days.”

“Well, that's okay,” Kido says. “It’s not like we’re keeping you here or anything.”

Shintaro tunes the conversation out again. Go home, stay here, whatever. It’s not like they’ve made any progress with their quest to find out what the other powers are, or Momo and the kid’s search for that girl. He shoves rice into his mouth and ignores Momo’s voice climbing in pitch until it’s up in the squeaky zone.

Across from him, Konoha stuffs rolls into his mouth one after the other, swallowing them down like he barely needs to chew. He hums a little as he eats, lost as usual in his private world of food-induced bliss. Shintaro lets his gaze fall over Konoha’s soft white hair and down to his exposed collarbone before wrenching his eyes away, his heart pounding.

It’s been a few days since the thing with the cliff, and Shintaro can’t stop picking at the incident in his head. He wants—needs—to pay Konoha back somehow, to retroactively earn what Konoha was willing to sacrifice for him, a worthless NEET who hadn’t been able to do anything but stare in silence as Konoha bled to death on the ground. But his sick mind can’t be trusted with something like friendship, and he finds himself thinking about Konoha more and more—idly daydreaming about Konoha carrying him in his arms and kissing his mouth. It makes him flush just to think about, and he’s hit by a wave of self-loathing so strong it makes the rice in his mouth turn to paste. He forces himself to swallow, miserable. His stomach ties itself up and he puts his fork down, feeling too sick to eat any more.

Across the table, Konoha picks up his plate and angles it toward his mouth so that the rest of the food falls in, like a bulldozer dumping out a load of dirt. He chews briefly, swallows, and then pushes his chair back from the table and stands, beaming with satisfaction.

“Thank you very much,” he says to Kido, and starts to walk out. Shintaro starts to panic—Konoha’s leaving, and Shintaro hasn’t even spoken to him, despite staring at him all through the meal like some sick freak. He stands abruptly, cutting off Momo. “I’m done too,” he says, and rushes out.

Shintaro hurries past Konoha and grabs his sleeve. Konoha turns, and Shintaro immediately regrets it, panic squeezing his chest like a vise.

“Um,” he says. His mind is a screaming blank. Konoha looks at him politely, waiting.

“I was just wondering if you wanted to—um, if you wanted to do something later?” He curses himself for stammering. He’s tried muttering to himself in his room to practice, so he doesn’t sound as uselessly awkward when he talks to people, but Ene laughs at him too much. Now he’s one sentence in with Konoha and he’s already messed up.

“Like what?” Konoha says. Shintaro has no idea. It was a mistake to talk to Konoha—but the sight of Konoha’s blood on the grass is too fresh in his mind, and he needs to somehow make himself worthy of it.

“I don’t know,” he says, “maybe we could hang out, or, or get some food?”

Konoha perks up immediately, smiling big. “Yes! Let’s get some food. Where is it?”

“Oh, I...” Shintaro’s heart is racing at hummingbird speed, and he can feel perspiration beading on his forehead. “Um, not right now... we just had lunch... just, later?”

“Oh, okay,” Konoha says. He dampens a little, but he’s still smiling at Shintaro, which makes Shintaro feel even worse. He can’t do anything right and there’s no reason why Konoha should still like him. “Please tell me when you want to get food.”

“Okay, yeah,” Shintaro starts, but Konoha’s already turned away.

He closes his eyes, feeling the weight of self-loathing settle into his chest. He’s awful, rotten, disgusting. Like spending time with him would be a way to make it up to Konoha anyway. The best thing he can probably do for Konoha is stay away from him.

Shintaro goes back to his room and flops facedown on his bed, not even bothering to pull his legs up onto the mattress. His phone chimes in his pocket. Even though he has friends now, kind of, he’s pretty sure none of them would text him, so he ignores it. It chimes again, and when he ignores it again, it emits a continuous loud beeping that only ends when he digs it out and throws it down on the bed in front of his face.

“What?” he says, too exhausted to say it with any vitriol.

“I don’t like it when you keep me in your pocket,” Ene says, her arms crossed. She’s floating, her cut-off legs arranged in the lotus position. “It’s boring. I’m a person. You think I like seeing the inside of Master’s pocket when he’s off having fun conversations?”

“You’re welcome to have them for me,” Shintaro mutters.

“Ah, really?” Ene’s tone turns sly. “Even with the white-haired guy?”

Shintaro’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Oh, Konoha, let’s spend time together—Konoha, let me buy you some soda—Konoha, let’s get married—”

“ _Ene!_ ” Shintaro yells, scrambling into a sitting position and bringing the phone close to his face, but she’s already doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach. “Who—how did you—”

“Oh, please,” she says. “It’s beyond obvious.” Her face goes blank for a second while she concentrates, and an audio file plays: _Maybe we could hang out, or, or get some food?_

Shintaro groans and drops the phone on the bed again, covering his face with his hands. His voice is reedy and weak and he can _hear_ the hopefulness that he was trying to keep out of it. It’s disgusting and he’s sure Konoha thought so too. Konoha was just being polite—who is Shintaro to think that he could have anything to offer Konoha—Konoha saved him because he’s a nice person and that’s what he _does_ , it doesn’t mean Konoha really wants to be friends with him, much less anything else—

He gulps down air, lightheaded with shame, and presses the pads of his fingers against his eyelids.

“Calm down, Master,” Ene says, but she’s still giggling. “You only sounded a _little_ pathetic. I’ve heard you sound much worse!”

Shintaro just groans again.

“I’ve been waiting for this day, you know,” Ene gushes from somewhere on Shintaro’s left where he dropped the phone. “Master with a crush. Do you want some help?”

It makes it worse to hear the word spoken out loud. It’s not a crush. It’s just his disgusting pervert mind ruining everything. Whatever Konoha felt that made him jump off a cliff after Shintaro and say they were friends, Shintaro has taken and distorted and destroyed, and if Konoha knew, he would never want to look at Shintaro again. He would feel about Shintaro the way Shintaro feels about himself now, hating every single atom, from his messy hair to his dark-circled eyes to his weak body. He can feel tears pricking his eyes and he blinks rapidly, wet eyelashes brushing his fingers, unwilling to suffer this indignity on top of everything else. He can’t even figure out something simple like friendship. He can’t be trusted.

“Master,” Ene says again. “Do you want some advice?”

Shintaro picks his phone up again and narrows his eyes at her. He’s sure they’re red-rimmed by now, but it’s not like Ene hasn’t already seen all his worst sides. “Who asked you for anything?” he says. “You don’t know anything about me. Or Konoha.”

“Ah, well, you’re wrong there,” Ene says, her eyes glinting. “I am an expert on this kind of thing, Master. I know all about crushes.”

“Stop saying it’s a crush,” Shintaro says.

“Uh-huh,” Ene says. “I know that feeling too.” She puts her fists on her hips. “You’re definitely not going to get him if you keep going like you are now.” She drops her voice. “Uh, excuse me, Konoha, uh, do you want to get food?” She shakes her head, and her pixelated pigtails swing back and forth.

“I’m not trying to,” Shintaro says. “I just...”

He just can’t do nothing. He just can’t pretend Konoha didn’t almost die. Buying him soda wasn’t enough and spending time with him isn’t enough. Nothing will ever be enough, because someone like Shintaro is never going to be worth what Konoha was willing to give for him. The guilt only compounds itself, piling up like sand, until he can’t feel anything else.

“If you ask me,” Ene says, “the _only_ thing to do is just tell him. But you should be careful, Master, because you don’t want it to sound like you usually do.”

“I’m not doing that,” Shintaro says. He would rather walk in the sun for an hour than tell Konoha anything.

“Don’t give up so easily!” Ene jumps up, waving her arms. “I’m saying, you’re not ready right now. Not everyone is used to you like I am, you know, Master. But with my help, you could probably improve—”

“No!” Shintaro says, shaking his phone. “Stop talking about it, okay?”

“Aw, Master,” Ene says. “Are you blushing?”

“ _No_ ,” Shintaro says. There’s a light, and a _click_ , and then a photo of his face fills the phone screen. He’s goggling at the phone, his limp hair falling into his eyes, and his cheeks are pink. Frustrated, Shintaro throws the phone down on the bed again. It lands with the screen down, but he can still hear Ene laughing. He pulls his feet up onto the bed and curls up, mashing the pillow over his head and trying to drown out the sound.

-

Momo sings a little, carefully rinsing soap out of a pot. She did offer to help cook some time, but Shintaro made such a huge deal about how incompetent she is in the kitchen that everyone assured her she was fine with other chores. Which isn’t fair at all. She doesn’t need to have _responsibility_. All she wanted to do was chop an onion or something, and have Kido tell her which pan to put it in. Maybe just stir. But at least she’s washing up, unlike Shintaro who never does anything at all. He still totally hasn’t caught on to how many showers you’re supposed to take when you’re actually living with other people either.

Momo sets the pot down on the drying rack and steps back, wiping her hands on her apron. She beams in satisfaction at the clean dishes, turns away, and jumps. Shintaro’s skulking in the doorway, looking like a cockroach that’s been forcibly dragged out into the light. His shoulders are hunched up and he scowls at her from under his messy bangs.

“Are you hungry?” Momo says, pressing a hand to her heart as it settles from the scare.

“No,” Shintaro says, in a tone like Momo is forcing him to speak at gunpoint. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh!” Momo tilts her head. Shintaro hasn’t willingly initiated a conversation with her in at least two years, maybe even since their dad died. “Okay!”

They sit down at the table, Shintaro still looking like he’d rather be executed than be here talking to his sister. She narrows her eyes at him. There’s definitely something going on; he’s even sweatier than usual, and he swallows as he sits down like he’s pushing back nerves. He wipes his palms on his pants surreptitiously.

“Okay,” Shintaro says, and takes a deep breath. “A few days ago, something happened when we were visiting Mary’s house.”

“Kido told me about it,” Momo says. Kido let Momo lay her head in her lap while she told her, so Momo remembers every second of it, punctuated with Kido’s little puffs of laughter and rambling tangents.

“Okay,” Shintaro says again. His leg jiggles under the table. “So you know about the thing with Konoha?”

“Ummmm.” Momo thinks back; she remembers Kido pushing her hair back behind her shoulder, and Kido’s mouth turning up in a smile as she talked about Mary’s drawings. “There was some kind of accident?”

“Yeah. Well, whatever. That doesn’t even matter,” Shintaro says. He pushes his hair back, seeming frustrated. “Uh, like. He did something really nice for me and I just want to return the favor. He said we were friends, and...” Shintaro shrugs. “I just don’t know how to...”

Momo squints at him. There is definitely something wrong. “What did you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Shintaro says. “I just...” He heaves a deep sigh, running his hand through his hair again. Momo tries not to think about how unwashed it probably is. “I don’t know what to do for him, okay? We’re supposed to be friends. I want him to know that I’m his friend too. So I thought you would know what to do because you always have to talk to fans and stuff, even though you’re a freak with no friends, because people like you anyway because that’s your job.”

“I’m not a freak!” Momo says, frowning. “You’re much more of a freak, Ene’s told me some things—and anyway, I don’t get it, you want me to help you be friends with Konoha? How am I supposed to do that?”

“No!” Shintaro says, glaring at her from under his greasy bangs. “I just thought you might know what kind of things I could do to make it up to him.”

Momo stares at him—and then it clicks. She jumps back, almost tipping her chair over, and claps her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening. She must accidentally flip her power on, because his eyes snap right to her, even though he still looks desperate to crawl back into his room.

“Oh my god,” Momo says. “You like him. You like Konoha. Oh my god! Oh my _god!_ ”

“No, I don’t!” Shintaro blanches, his face going gray and pasty and his hands closing into fists at his sides.

“You do!” Momo says. “You like him! You’re trying to ask me how to date him!”

“That’s not—no—that’s not what it’s about,” Shintaro stammers. “I just—look I just want to do something for him to let him know—because he saved my life, okay? It’s not like that. Why would you even think—I mean, how would you—”

“Ohhhh my god,” Momo breathes, stunned. She didn’t _know_ Shintaro could be into that kind of thing, but she didn’t know Shintaro could be interested in _anything_ outside his computer screen.

“Just forget it, okay?” Shintaro says, edging backwards on his chair like he’s trying to escape the situation. “As your older brother I command you to forget about it.”

“You can’t command me to do anything!” Momo says. “Anyway, you came to me for advice!”

“I changed my mind,” Shintaro says, standing to leave. Momo puts a hand on his shoulder and tries to push him back down.

“No way,” she says. “We’re going to talk about this.”

“Momo.” Shintaro glares at her. “Stop it.”

Momo puts her hands on her hips. “Sit right down so we can talk about this or I’ll get Ene to show everyone your favorite website!”

She doesn’t know what it is, actually, but from the way Shintaro’s face goes from angry to nauseous tells her she hit gold. He sits down.

Momo can see that his fingers are trembling, and she’s hit by a punch of remorse. It’s really hard for him, she reminds herself. It’s hard to remember sometimes that his complaining is for real, that these things are actually hard for him—but Momo does things that scare her every day, and seeing Shintaro struggle to have a conversation with her brings a lump of resentment into her throat. The old resentment, from Shintaro refusing to even respond to her when she was working every day to become an idol so their family could survive. Shintaro sitting in his room like a black hole in their house, sucking up every scrap of light and good in their lives, and giving their mom even more to worry about after everything...

He’s trying. Momo can see that. He complains about it, but he actually comes with them on missions, and he talks to people, and he’s here asking Momo how to do something nice for someone. Okay. She takes a breath and pushes it back down.

“What’s your plan?” she says. “How are you going to make this work?”

“I’m not! I don’t want to do anything like that!” Shintaro says.

“Well, why not?” Momo tilts her head to the side, her ponytail swinging. “This is a big deal! If you have feelings for someone, you have to do something about it!”

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend, then?” Shintaro snaps. “If you’re so good at this.”

Momo hesitates. A boyfriend is not in Momo’s sights right now. But...

“That’s different,” she says.

“Yeah? Why?”

Because Momo has a life. Because Momo gets crushes sometimes, on kids at her school usually, and it’s not really a big deal. Yes, this one is bad—heart-squeezingly, breath-haltingly bad—but she has friends now, and she had a job before. She has other things to do. Momo’s spent so long waiting to see some flicker of life in Shintaro that she can’t help but try to draw it out, like fanning a single spark into a flame. Otherwise Shintaro is just going to smother it under layers of pessimism and she’ll lose him again.

Momo takes a deep breath. “Okay,” she says. “Then I’ll tell Konoha for you.”

“Momo!” She thought he would get annoyed, but instead he flinches back, his eyes flying wide open. He looks terrified, and that halts her. “You can’t do that. Please. I don’t want him to—” He cuts himself off and presses his lips together, like he can’t even say what he’s afraid of happening. Momo stares at him in wonder. Shintaro is in _really_ deep.

“Okay,” Momo says gently. “Then just talk to him! Not about that. But just, you know, have a conversation!”

Shintaro looks at her like she’s told him to turn into a dragon.

“What about, then,” he says.

“Anything!” Momo waves her arms in the air. “The weather! The internet! I don’t know! He’s really easy to talk to.”

Shintaro looks affronted at the thought that Momo has been talking to Konoha. Like she can’t even be friends with the person his weird NEET affections have concentrated themselves on.

“Just go talk to him right now,” she says. “I think he’s with Hibiya.”

 

-

 

Konoha is with Hibiya, watching him play some kind of video game in front of the TV. Shintaro glances at it—it’s Super Squirrel, a mildly entertaining shooter game that Shintaro beat in six hours. He spent the next couple days maxing out the score and then never looked at it again.

Hibiya’s sitting on the floor, and Konoha’s a little behind him, curled up with his back against the couch, his knees pulled up in front of him. Sometimes Konoha reminds Shintaro one of those big dogs who think they’re lapdogs. His long limbs are all tucked in neatly and his chin is nestled on his knees. He’s watching the game in complete absorption, eyes wide. He doesn’t seem to blink very often.

Shintaro sits down next to him on the floor, crossing his legs. “Hey,” he says. He can’t look at Konoha. He looks at his hands instead, hoping it seems casual and nonchalant.

“Oh, hi, Shintaro.” Shintaro can hear the smile in his voice. He plays with the cuff of his jacket sleeve, picking at a loose thread with his thumbnail.

He’s run out of things to say already. It’s laughable that he thought spending time with Konoha could be a way to thank him for what he did. Surely inflicting himself on anyone is more like a punishment.

“Um, have you seen this game before?” Shintaro says. Konoha shakes his head.

Shintaro is way too aware of his presence. Konoha’s huge warm body is right next to him—warm with body heat or circuitry, Shintaro isn’t sure. He can see Konoha out of his peripheral vision, all soft green and white with his big liquid pink eyes. Shintaro’s entire torso aches just being near him.

There’s a familiar darkness growing in the pit of his stomach. It hurts him how much he doesn’t deserve to want the things he wants—the longer he sits near Konoha, the more he wants to destroy himself for daring to imagine Konoha loving him.

What does he have to offer Konoha, besides the occasional free soda? What could Konoha ever want to talk to him about? What interesting anecdotes could Shintaro offer up? He can’t imagine saying anything that would interest Konoha, or making him laugh. He’s as useless here as he is when they go on missions. He has no value to the group and certainly not to Konoha.

“Have you?” Konoha says. Shintaro blinks himself back to the conversation, but it’s slipping away from him, the blackness dragging him back down. This isn’t working. Not just talking to Konoha, but any of it—this pretending to be a normal person thing. The Mekakushi Dan thing.

“Uh,” Shintaro says, getting up. “I have to go, sorry.” He flees before Konoha can respond.

-

Shintaro goes back to the room he’s been staying in and sits down on the bed, staring at his hands again.

“Hellooooo.” Ene’s voice reaches him from his phone’s tiny speaker, muffled by his comforter. “Hello, Master, you forgot me!”

“I’m gonna go home, Ene,” he says. “I’m gonna go back to my house.”

“That’s a good idea!” Ene says. “You probably need to refresh Tono’s food, for one thing.”

“No, I’m going home for real,” he says. “As in, not coming back. If you want to stay here with the Dan I can e-mail you to Momo’s phone or something—”

“Wait, what?” The phone vibrates in surprise. “No way, Master! This is the first interesting thing you’ve done since I’ve known you! You can’t go home now!”

“Well, I am,” he says.

Ene vibrates again, louder, and lets off an angry text tone. “Can you at least pick up the phone so I can talk to you?” she says. “Not from inside a blanket?”

Shintaro sighs and reaches out to feel for the phone. His hand closes around it, and he holds it up to his face. “I said you could stay if you wanted,” he says.

“Oh, yeah? And what exactly would you do without me?” Ene says. Her face gets bigger as she leans in towards the screen, her eyebrows drawn down.

“Get some quiet,” Shintaro says. He shouldn’t even be here in the first place. Not if Ayano can’t be.

“I wouldn’t leave you,” Ene says. “It would be way too pathetic to think of you sitting in your room without even me there. You would probably suffocate under a pile of soda bottles and dirty clothes.”

“Whatever,” Shintaro says. He doesn’t really have the energy for this right now. He slides the phone onto mute.

Ene’s mouth moves, and she startles when no sound comes out. She raises a tiny pixelated fist to pound on the screen, yelling soundlessly. Shintaro puts the phone down and buries his face in his hands, feeling too bad even to cry.

He sits there for a while, his thoughts a swirling dark mass. After a while, he pulls himself up, his body heavy like a dead star. He grabs his phone from the bed.

Ene leans forward and taps on the screen again, her other hand planted on her hip. Shintaro puts the volume back on.

“E-mail me to Momo,” she says. “I want to stay.”

-

Momo is in Kido’s room for power-controlling practice when her text tone sounds.

Her concentration breaks, and Kido’s eyes flick over to her, clearly involuntary from the way her face recedes into her collar.

“Sorry!” Momo says. “Sorry, sorry, I think I’m getting the hang of it though—but sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Kido says, emerging just a fraction. “Just try again?”

“Yeah!” Momo says, although the little flutter she gets from Kido looking at her is hard to squash. “Um, let me just check my phone, though...” She pulls it out and opens the message.

Ene explodes on her screen like a firework, her arms over her head in some kind of cheerleader pose. “Momo!” she says.

“Oh!” Momo blinks, startled. “Hi, Ene.”

“Are we alone?” Ene says. She drops low, shading her eyes with a hand and looking from side to side like a spy.

“Ummmm,” Momo says, looking up at Kido. Kido shrugs a shoulder. Momo smiles at her, and Kido’s eyes flash red briefly, like she’s forgotten that she can’t disappear when Momo’s looking right at her.

“I’ll be right back,” Momo promises. She jogs to the bathroom and shuts the door, then leans against it and holds the phone out in front of her. She’s always conscious of what view she’s giving Ene when they talk—like, if she holds the phone too low, is Ene looking up her nostrils?

“Okay,” she says. She gives Ene a small salute. “Aloneness has been achieved.”

“We have a problem,” Ene says. Her pigtails settle, like they’re responding to the seriousness of the situation. “A Shintaro problem.”

Momo nods. “I know aaaalll about it,” she says. “The whole... Konoha _situation_.” Ene knows, she’s sure. Ene knows Shintaro better than Shintaro.

“It’s not just that,” Ene says. “It’s a _Shintaro_ problem. He went home and he says he’s not going to come back.”

Momo deflates, leaning a little more heavily against the door. “Oh,” she says.

She doesn’t even know why she’s surprised. The past couple years have been one long spiral of lowering her expectations for Shintaro, and she thought she was pretty much done with that by now.

“But we can’t let him,” Ene says, punching a fist into her open palm. “Master is finally starting to do things. We just have to convince him to come back.”

“Okay,” Momo says warily. “What do you have in mind?”

Ene puts her hands on her hips, her pigtails perking up a little. “We just have to tell Konoha how he feels,” she says.

“That’s what I said!” Momo bursts out. “Earlier. But he got really weird about it.”

“Master is weird about everything,” Ene says, waving this away. “It’s the only way. Otherwise he’ll just sit around forever doing nothing about it and feeling bad.”

“Yeah, but...” Shintaro’s face when Momo suggested it flashes in her mind. “It’s not right if he doesn’t want us to,” she says. “He would be really angry...”

“Momo, this is an emergency,” Ene says. “It’s practically our duty to tell Konoha.” She leans in, her face filling up half the screen. “If Konoha’s not interested, who cares! Shintaro said he’s not coming back anyway! But if he _is_ interested, we’ve solved the problem!”

“I guess,” Momo says. She twists the end of her ponytail around her finger. She does want to do something. As irritating as he is, she would rather have Shintaro here complaining and not doing any of the chores than sitting in his gross dark room doing nothing.

“And if he does find out, you can just blame it on me,” Ene says. “I would do it myself, but I don’t know Konoha. And it would be really weird because of the friend of mine that he looks like!” She rushes through this part, shaking her head. “But Master is used to me messing with him, he won’t even care.”

“Are you sure about this?” Momo says. “I don’t know Konoha that well either.”

“I am totally sure,” Ene says, bouncing up and down. “So will you do it?”

“I guess so,” Momo says. She pictures Shintaro sitting in the dark in his ratty black sweatshirt. “Okay. Yes.”

“Yeah!” Ene punches the air, grinning hugely.

-

Shintaro’s mom isn’t home, so there’s no one to ask him where he’s been. So it’s easy enough to slip right back into it, dropping his jersey in the middle of the floor and reaching for the half-full bottle of warm flat soda sitting on his desk. He twists it open and takes a sip. Not carbonated, but the sugar still coats his throat and soothes him.

He flicks open his browser, and within a couple minutes it feels like he’s home. He still feels bad, but something in him relaxes. It’s so much easier to give up, to sit in his room and not have to worry about making conversation or being expected to do things he’s not capable of.

Shintaro tries to watch some anime—should be nice without Ene interrupting for once—but he feels oddly jumpy, and he keeps pausing in anticipation of wisecracks that don’t come. It irritates him, so he gives up and dives into the message boards. There’s a new sense of guilt sitting in his stomach, heavy as a stone, but Shintaro’s so used to swallowing down guilt that it’s hard to care. He’s hated himself in so many ways for so long that it’s hard to imagine this is going to make much difference. He’s rotten to the core, his insides nothing but toxic sludge eating away at him.

He tries to put it out of his head, and is still trying when he hears the sound of the front doorbell ringing.

Shintaro blinks. The room has grown dark around him, and his hands and wrists are bathed white in the glow from the screen. He checks the clock; it’s been five hours. He swishes the soda bottle. Still a few sips left.

The doorbell rings again, and he groans aloud. This is so not his job. This is exactly what happens when Momo leaves. Shintaro has to do everything.

He gets up to his feet and goes to open the door.

Standing on his front doorstep is Konoha. Shintaro’s stomach clenches up with anxiety, and his grip tightens on the doorknob.

Konoha raises a hand in a wave, and smiles. “Hi,” he says. “Can I come in?”

Shintaro’s heart is beating so fast he briefly wonders what Konoha would do if he just collapsed. He leans against the door a little, just in case. “Yeah,” he says. “Sure.”

The house feels oddly more empty with Konoha in it. Shintaro’s used to being alone, but with Konoha here to see, it seems suddenly sad and pathetic. Shintaro is suddenly aware that he hasn’t turned on any lights, and the collection of dark walls and corners feels faintly like a coffin. He takes a step backward and feels for the hallway light switch on the wall, but it escapes him, so he just drops his arm to his side, feeling like an idiot.

“I have to talk to you,” Konoha says softly. His skin is glowing paper white in the moonlight coming in through the windows. His eyes are as luminous and unreadable as ever. He’s so beautiful, a perfect creature, all smooth skin and gentle concern. Shintaro wants to squeeze his eyes shut so he doesn’t have to look, but he’s paralyzed.

“Okay,” he says.

Konoha stares at Shintaro, giving him the same blank look he would give to an unfamiliar kitchen appliance. Then he says, “Do you want to kiss me?”

For a dizzying second Shintaro thinks he really might collapse. “What?”

“I want to kiss you,” Konoha says. “I really want to. I didn’t know if you would want it.”

“Why?” Shintaro blurts out, too startled to think about it. He feels cornered and tense. This has to be some kind of misunderstanding. Konoha’s—there are a lot of things he doesn’t understand. Whatever this is, Shintaro needs to clear it up as fast as possible and get Konoha to leave before he starts crying or something.

“I like you,” Konoha says.

Shintaro shakes his head. His throat is closing up dangerously. “No,” he says. “Look, just because—just because we’re in this group together, it doesn’t mean that you have to—take care of me. You don’t have to try to save me, and you don’t have to say you like me. It doesn’t matter.”

Konoha gazes at him with his sleepy eyes. “But I do like you,” he says. Shintaro’s stomach hurts.

“There’s no reason for you to like me,” he bites out, frustrated. Konoha doesn’t know—he’s like Shintaro, he’s not used to having friends. He’s just attached to Shintaro because Shintaro’s nearby.

Konoha takes a step closer to him. Shintaro cowers against the wall, scared of Konoha leaving, scared of him saying anything else.

“What’s the reason you like me, then?” Konoha says.

“I don’t know,” Shintaro says, his voice hoarse.

“I really want to kiss you,” Konoha says again, and Shintaro’s heart jumps violently. “I’ve always wanted to.”

Shintaro closes his eyes. “When I first met you I threw up on you.”

“After that,” Konoha says placidly. “Shintaro.”

Shintaro opens his eyes. Konoha is right in front of him. His expression is as blank as usual, but Shintaro knows—he’s _seen_ —he knows that Konoha has emotions, that he cares. Konoha cares about that kid, the girl Hibiya’s always talking about, and he cares about them, all of them, the whole Mekakushi Dan, in the same kind of blandly supportive way. He would do all of the chores in the house if they asked him; he carries their stuff without complaint. Konoha likes _everyone_. Shintaro isn’t special enough for Konoha to love. He can’t be this lucky.

“Konoha.” He hesitates. He can’t do this right, he doesn’t know how to do things. He’s not like Momo, he doesn’t know how to talk to people. All he knows how to do is fuck things up. He swallows and starts again. “I want you to kiss me.” His voice is disgusting, scratchy and strained. He thinks he might be shaking.

“Really?” Konoha says, perking up. He smiles at Shintaro like Shintaro’s a sticky bun.

“Yeah,” Shintaro says, his stomach swooping.

He watches Konoha lean in, and then closes his eyes as Konoha kisses him. Konoha’s lips are cool, and he’s hesitant in a way that’s so characteristic that it makes the tears finally spill over. Shintaro feels like a soda can that’s been shaken into froth.

A sob catches in his throat, and Konoha pulls back, peering at him with concern.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” Shintaro says, wiping his face furiously. How fucking embarrassing. “You’re serious? You really like me?”

Konoha nods.

Shintaro kisses him then, bringing his arms up and looping them around Konoha’s neck. Konoha’s hands settle gently on Shintaro’s shoulders. Konoha’s kissing him against the wall of his parents’ house.

Shintaro’s never kissed anyone before, and it’s a slow exploration, feeling Konoha’s mouth against his. Konoha’s body shifts as he leans in, and Shintaro can hear him breathing. Shintaro’s up on the balls of his feet, almost hanging off Konoha’s neck, trying to get more leverage. He throws himself into it, kissing Konoha as deeply as he can.

Konoha draws back and then leans in to kiss Shintaro’s forehead, then his cheek, then the other. Then he wraps his arms around Shintaro and buries his face in Shintaro’s neck, nuzzling him.

Shintaro pats the top of Konoha’s head, and then buries his fingers in his hair. He’s still shaky, his legs like wet jelly. He keeps evaluating the situation, narrating to himself to confirm over and over that this is real: _Konoha is here, Konoha likes me_. He turns his head to the side and kisses the side of Konoha’s head, right on his headphone.

He doesn’t deserve to feel this happy. Not the absence of guilt or shame, but the presence of something else, filling up his heart and his head.

Konoha picks his head up and kisses Shintaro again. Shintaro shoots back up on tiptoes to meet him halfway, and overbalances, grabbing Konoha’s arm to keep himself upright. Konoha puts his hands on Shintaro’s waist and lifts him up effortlessly, pressing him against the wall so Shintaro can wrap his legs around Konoha’s hips. The feeling of Konoha’s hands on him is intoxicating—Konoha is strong, but his touch is careful, like Shintaro is something precious. Konoha kisses him over and over, or maybe Shintaro is kissing him, he can’t really tell—he breathes into Konoha’s mouth, hoping Konoha won’t notice that his cheeks are wet again.

He doesn’t know what this changes, exactly, but he wants to know. Maybe it’s not what he should want, but he does. He presses himself closer to Konoha. His face heats up with how disgusting it is for him to be so obvious, but Konoha just continues to kiss him, so Shintaro exhales and tries to relax. It’s okay. Konoha likes him. It’s okay.

-

 

“Here we are,” Shintaro says, pushing open the door of the restaurant. He found a place online that was only a couple blocks away so they wouldn’t have to walk that much. Okay, Ene found it, but Shintaro at least looked first, so he put in the effort.

“Whoa,” Konoha says, his face lighting up at the smell and sight of food. Shintaro’s heart flips over, and he clears his throat nervously.

“They have a deal,” he says. “You can have as much as you can eat in an hour... I can pay for you, okay?” He borrowed the money from Momo, but whatever.

Konoha turns to him, and his face is the most animated Shintaro’s ever seen it, his big eyes scrunched up in pure happiness.

Shintaro was worried about the whole date thing, especially the part where he’s supposed to make conversation, but it turns out to be an unnecessary worry. Konoha sets in on the food like a wave swallowing up a beach, quickly and methodically demolishing huge piles of gyoza and returning for more. Long after Shintaro’s finished, he watches Konoda eat, smiling between bites and looking at Shintaro like he’s made of gyoza himself. Shintaro can’t shake the feeling that Konoha’s making a mistake when he looks at him like that, but he’s getting a little better at convincing himself.

Konoha eats for the entire hour. Shintaro might have thought he’d be bored, sitting there and watching someone else enjoy themself in silence, but he’s totally absorbed in Konoha, helplessly fond and more than a little impressed at the technical feat. Konoha almost never shows his emotions, and to see him look so pleased because of something Shintaro did... He doesn’t want to overanalyze it, but he can’t help it; every part of this thing they’re doing feels big and important, like some kind of turning point that Shintaro didn’t even know he was waiting for.

The staff hurry them out the door as soon as the hour expires, clearly pleased to see the back of Konoha.

“Thank you, Shintaro,” Konoha says cheerfully.

“You’re welcome,” Shintaro mutters, embarrassed. He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Hey, how does that work, anyway?”

“What?”

“Well, you’re like...” Shintaro stalls. He’s totally unclear on what exactly Konoha is. “You know, like, parts of you are plastic and you have wires... how come you can eat like that? How does it work?”

“I like eating,” Konoha says. “I wouldn’t be happy if I couldn’t... It just works.”

Maybe it was rude to ask—but Konoha still looks pleased, practically glowing with post-dumpling bliss. He hums a little as they walk, a sound like a computer fan. Shintaro bites on the inside of his lip, steeling himself, and then pulls one hand out of his pocket and slides his palm against Konoha’s. Konoha takes his hand, squeezing a little.

In the next instant, panic constricts Shintaro’s chest. Is this allowed? Is he allowed to feel this happy? He shouldn’t be enjoying himself like this when Ayano can’t enjoy anything ever again. It’s not fair of him, he should never have left his room...

He sets his jaw and waits for it to pass, the pain in his chest spiking and then receding. It takes him a second to realize that he’s unconsciously tightened his grip on Konoha’s hand. Konoha tightens back, and Shintaro cries out. Konoha drops him.

“I’m sorry!” he says immediately. He clenches and flexes his hand a couple times, as if he’s testing out its strength.

“It’s okay,” Shintaro says, rubbing his sore hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

But Konoha looks worried. Shintaro glances around them—there’s a couple on the street a few blocks ahead of them, but no one behind them, and no one looking in their direction. He goes up on tiptoe and kisses Konoha’s cheek. By the time he pulls away, his cheeks are already hot with embarrassment. Thank god he left his phone at home.

Konoha takes his hand again, more gently this time, and Shintaro lets him. It probably wasn’t the right thing to do—trying to figure out how to function in this, what, relationship? is like practicing calligraphy with oven mitts on, but the more time he spends with Konoha, the more Shintaro realizes that Konoha doesn’t belong to the world he’s afraid of. Momo and Seto and everyone, people who know how to talk and do things, who stare at Shintaro when he says the wrong thing (Kido) or give him that look like he’s a monkey who’s learned how to speak (Kano). There’s a lot Konoha doesn’t get either, and some of it is things Shintaro knows and can explain. And if he can’t, Konoha doesn’t really care.

Shintaro strokes his thumb against the back of Konoha’s hand, and lets himself smile.


End file.
